Listen with your Heart
by x Veela x
Summary: Set after HBP, before DH. Bill's future lycanthropy is still uncertain as he comes to terms with the fact that Fleur's feelings for him haven't changed. Implied RLNT.


_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own the Harry Potter characters… I just tend to borrow them now and again…_

_Inspired by "Golden Sun" A Nintendo DS game – the conversation isn't directly lifted from it, but the examples of survival techniques(caterpillar, pill bug, hedgehog, amphibians) are misquoted from it._

_Set after HBP, before DH. Bill's future lycanthropy is still uncertain._

_Listen with your Heart_

All was quiet outside the ramshackle Burrow in the dead of night. The usual boisterous yelling had halted and the Weasley family members were tucked up in bed, attempting to catch up on life before it brought them down once more. In the midst of darkness, owls fluttered silently back to the nest, a still warm rodent's body dangling from each cruel beak. Their chicks crowded around to take the offering, pushing others out the way so as to receive their share of food. Below them, tall grass crunched beneath the quick footsteps of a fleeing rabbit, its long ears flattened to its body as it dived into a concealed burrow. Behind it, a brown fox slunk through the vegetation, his eyes narrowing in search for the prey that had escaped. At the crackle of heavier footsteps in the tress, the animal jumped up out of the grass and took flight, endeavouring to hunt elsewhere. The tall trees keeping watch over the nocturnal activity attempted to shush their rustling leaves as if in respect of the fraught emotional battle waging inside the only Weasley son awake.

Light footsteps could not evade the creaking of the old wooden floorboards bedecking the hallway and kitchen, though Bill did not look up from his misery. A soft hand feathered upon his shoulder and warm lips wavered against his cheek for a second, "Mon coeur?" Bill raised his head out of the cradle of his hands to let Fleur lace her slim fingers into his roughened hand.

"I should probably say something deeply significant, but –" he broke off with a dejected wave of his other hand. His voice was hoarse; his eyes had lost their customary charm and sparkle, though an onlooker's eyes would be drawn to the horrific scars that disfigured his once handsome visage. After being mauled by Greyback's malicious claws, his hair had forcibly been trimmed to chin-length, though the style suite him far better. Fleur knew he had loved the rebellious length of his trademark hair, but she thought it looked much more fetching in its new style.

"Your muzzer," Fleur replied defiantly, "she says zat words do not do justees to love. We do not 'ave to speak." She gazed at him, her sapphire eyes blazing as she determinedly pushed Bill's chair from the kitchen table and settled herself on his lap.

A flicker of a smile crossed his face, but it vanished rapidly as though it hurt him to stretch into a positive expression. Sorrow was emitted from his aura, enough to feed a crowd of dementors for weeks; Bill reached to cascade her slivery hair down her back before leaning back in his chair to take her appearance in. Her skin was naturally pale, though it seemed to have a chalky quality to in that had not been there a few weeks ago. She looked tired, as though she was a drooping flower, wilting from lack of water. Yet, she had been so strong – strong enough for them both when Bill would have given up hope. He almost had regrets about marrying her.

"I'm too poor for you." He told her sadly, "My family is in disarray, there is a war going on – I could die at any moment and leave you by yourself in this terrible mess. I would leave responsibility that would lie heavy on your shoulders." He looked pointedly at her, "Shoulders too young to bear it." He held up a tired hand when she made to interrupt him, "At what of my … condition? Fleur, you could hardly call it _safe_, and the definition of _chancy_ would be severely bent if applied to this situation."

As Fleur began to object fiercely to his words, they both turned at the sound of mirthless laughter from the kitchen door. "Those arguments sound familiar." A young woman entered and perched on one of the kitchen counters as she mocked, "I'm too poor, I'm too old for you, I'm too dangerous." There was that hollow laughter again from Tonks, her hair now a bright violet.

"Tonks, you know that it would not work between us with such obstacles that I physically cannot overcome." Remus Lupin's weary voice drifted from the hallway. It appeared that he had only heard the second half of her dialogue and his eyes betrayed shock when he followed her to the kitchen to see Fleur and Bill at the kitchen table. His face was too drained to reveal emotions after the first battle at Hogwarts. He sank into a chair, his elbows resting on his knees, unknowingly mimicking Bill's earlier pose.

"Eet eez nonsense!" Fleur proclaimed, dislodging herself from Bill to stand before him, her graceful hands now firmly on her hips as she glared at him with fervour and outrage marring her face. "I will not listen to such … such," she cast around for a suitable word to project her feelings, "drivel!" The situation's absurdity did not pronounce itself as Fleur strode away to collect cups. "I would prefer a leetle cottage by ze sea for us to call a 'ome better zan a 'uge mansion with a spectaculaer view of lakes et hills. I do not care eef we 'ave to leeve in a cave." Her accent asserted itself in her cross words, "Et you are _not_ old at all. You are not even zat much older zan me – only a few years. I do not want a rich young Ministry toad. I 'ave been to dinners wiz zem for years, and none of zem 'as managed to make me smile in hours as much as you do seemply by walking in ze room. Hot water steamed out of her wand, which she jabbed at a green teapot ready and waiting on the shelf. "I do not want any of zat, Bill. I want you." She crashed the cups next to the teapot in an odd mixture of anger at the circumstances and caution for waking the household up as she continued to make tea.

"Well that settles the first two problems. She's right," Remus sighed, "we may as well talk about it, Bill. Now is as good a time as any before your concerns eat away at you." He lifted his head up and tucked himself in to the table, resting his forearms on the wooden surface. Fleur stormed over to him to pass his share of the tea to him as Tonks spluttered,

"Oh so you'll talk to _Bill_ about his lycanthropy, but you won't listen to _me_ about _yours_! I have said to you what Fleur has just told Bill a _thousand times_ yet do you accept it from me? No!" Remus turned his gaze onto her, attempting to counter her argument, though realising that she had a valid point.

"Maybe now is as good a time as any to put ze cards on ze table?" Fleur suggested, firing Remus's own words back at his as she handed Bill a mug with affection that betrayed her fury. Tonks smirked in a satisfied way at Fleur as she took a seat opposite the veela, who had placed herself next to Bill.

Remus began abruptly, seeming to know where to start to perhaps ease the situation, "As you know, we are uncertain of the extent of your lycanthropy." He began, the tea beginning to revive his spirits at the early hour of what must by now be morning, "When we become werewolves, speaking in the human tongue becomes more difficult. Countless wizards consider ours an accursed race, once burned at the stake to strive for purification." His voice was slightly strangled as he considered the fate of previous wizards unfortunate enough to have been bitten in a more unforgiving world.

Tonks gestured to herself, managing to spill a bit of tea in the process, though she paid it no heed, "They find it strange that some creatures, and wizards or witches that are metamorphmagi can change their shapes." She snorted derisively, "But surely changing one's shape is not really all that unusual." It was unclear whether she left her statement as a question, but Remus nodded in agreement and continued his speech.

"Think about the caterpillar for a moment. When the time is right, does it not transform into a beautiful butterfly?" He asked Bill, who had unknowingly copied Remus's position in a subconscious gesture confessing his intrigue.

"Well yes," He replied, slightly stunned and perplexed about Remus's direction of thought, "it's only natural."

"And the pill bug and the hedgehog – do they not change their shapes to protect themselves? And many amphibians posses the power to change colour at will, correct?" Remus could see his words ticking over in Bill's mind, whilst Fleur's attention had clearly been captured, hoping that Bill would see that his arguments were pointless.

Tonks interjected with the most searching question asked so far that evening, "In light of this do you mean to tell me that you find werewolves so abnormal?" Indeed, she looked and directed her query to the eldest Weasley son, but Fleur could sense an indirect jab at Remus.

"I – I," Bill stuttered, a half smile forming on his face, "I had not thought of it that way before." As though he realised that one of his arguments to keep Fleur safe had been shot down, his expression soon turned sour once more.

"Per'aps you seemply did not give eet enough zought." Fleur commented dryly, demurely sipping her steaming beverage.

"I have spent a great deal of time thinking about werewolves." Remus admitted. In reality, he had had most of his life to meditate upon the cause of his rejection from society, "I felt cursed to be a werewolf. Taking a more objective look at nature, however, I realized that species survived by evolving… transforming." As though he was back at the front of a Hogwarts classroom, a comfortable air eased the taught tension in the room. There was something about Remus John Lupin that just _fitted_ when he was before a blackboard, attempting to share the multitude of his knowledge with anyone who wanted to hear. Even more so, there was a captivating lilt to his teaching that ensnared the rapt attention of his listeners like a veela spell as he taught his audience.

"Muggles, without changing their bodies with weapons and armour, would be very weak creatures indeed. Evolving into werewolves is just one way for humanity to survive." He gestured to Tonks, "We have amongst our midst a metamorphmagus, who though admittedly has lost the trait of gracefulness down her family line, has lost it because she does not need it. Tonks can transform herself at will into any being of her choosing. She could remain hidden for eternity, her identity masked by her abilities that she was born with to enable the survival of wizards and witches."

Tonks looked down at the surprise of praise and slight teasing from the Marauder reawakening in Remus, displaying an uncharacteristic show of modesty. However, Remus had turned his attention to Fleur, "Sitting beside you, you have a descendant of the veela line. Her beauty and charm enable her to capture the heart of anyone she so chooses, ensuring the continuation of the species that are the fittest of their kind. Admittedly, she does not get urges to deceive her capturers," He cast an acknowledging look to Tonks, "or a helpless terrible craving to tear the throats of children or indeed any unwary being that crosses the path of a werewolf once a month." He continued doggedly, "She gets longings to dance in moonlight and sink bare feet into a glade of trees, though when challenged, she could turn a whole Quidditch pitch upon a single soul." Remus grimaced as his words flipped to the tarnished side of the knut.

He leaned back in his chair as he delivered his finishing line, "In light of these musings, I conclude that in being born more than just a muggle - being a wizard or witch is in itself enabling the survival of humanity. Moreover, in becoming a werewolf, or submitting to werewolf tendencies owing to your unique condition … does that not equate to _finding_ a place in society determined to thwart survival, rather than become an outcast to it?"

The table remained in stunned silence as each mulled over Remus's words of wisdom. Fleur stood and placed her cup in the sink, where the cloth immediately jumped up enthusiastically to nudge some washing up liquid under the stream of hot water quietly pouring from the tap. She turned to Remus, "She eez right," she looked to Tonks and then back to Remus. Eet eez unfair for Bill to let me spoil his protests eef you do not leesten to hers. She says she 'as told you many times zat eet ees you zat she wants. Why do not you leesten wiz your 'eart, razer zan your ears?"

Even after the stunningly intellectual argument Remus had just given, he looked down at his clasped hands, not being able to meet Fleur's piercing gaze as though he was a child again and his mother had just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. It seemed that Fleur did not require an answer. She turned to Bill, "I am going to bed," she informed him softly, "are you fineeshed?" He smiled, despite the pain it caused him, and rose to give his cup to the kitchen cloth before joining Fleur at the door frame.

As she walked out of the kitchen and ascended the Burrow's rickety staircase, Bill caught sight of Remus hesitantly encasing Tonks's hand in both of his, "Thank you." The eldest Weasley son muttered, before leaving the two in peace.

-

As the sun crept up on the world, a raven began to caw from the mismatched roof top of the burrow, a quivering grub clutched in its beak.

_Finis._

_Review, please! x x_


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